September in seattle

waiting on a train

And I smoked my last cigarette

standing in out of the rain.

There's a cool wind blowin'

down the alley by the depot

Amtrak down the coastline

to the city of the roses.



Mama's hangin hand me downs

Daddy's in the hotel bar

kids reciting mother goose

running naked through the yard.

You see the best and the worst here

the richest and the poor

from the mansions on the hilltop

to the red dirt floor.



Pull into the station

the sun's settin outside.

The pushers and the pullers

tryin to take you for a ride.

Portland is a small town

with a bitter city smile

and as I walk these streets around

I might just hang here for a while.